


Unititled

by lotrangel17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrangel17/pseuds/lotrangel17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter and Greg Goyle meet again three years after the end of the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unititled

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a pinch write for the Lupercalia Love Fest on lj. Harry/Goyle pairing and the prompt of unexpected feelings. This is my first time writing with Goyle so I hope I didn't do too bad a job on his character. Also I have a hard time using last names so I hope it's okay that I wrote it with Harry called him Greg. 
> 
> Thanks to Dee for the beta! Super helpful as always.

The last place Harry Potter thought he would end up was back at Hogwarts. There were plenty of good memories of his years here, but there were also the ones that weren't so good; those that kept him up at night. It had been three years since the war's end, and sadly, most days he just couldn't shake the after effects of the war. Yes, they had won but at what cost? Too high a price it seemed. But here he was, walking around the grounds of the school, lost in thought, remembering that fateful meeting that brought him back.

When Professor McGonagall sent him a note asking him to come to the castle for tea he couldn't refuse. Once he got there though sitting in the Headmaster's office, now the Headmistresses' office decorated in McGonagall's style, he tried to keep the memories at bay of the times he'd spent with Dumbledore in this same place. Despite his best effort, he just could not concentrate on what she was saying. He could hear her voice in the back of his mind; she was asking how he was doing, how his friends were doing but Harry just nodded absently staring into his cup of tea until he felt her hand on his arm.

"Harry, what do you think?" she said quietly.

Harry looked up at her, and his face flamed a moment; he was as embarrassed as a first year. Clearing his throat, he said, "I'm sorry, Professor. What did you say?"

McGonagall smiled gently at him and patted his arm. "I said that I think you seem a little lost, Harry and I was hoping you might consider teaching our flying class this term while Madam Hooch is on sabbatical.

Harry was quite taken aback. "Teach? Me?" The idea of him teaching seemed absolutely unreal but Professor McGonagall seemed to be quite serious. "I don't know, Professor; do you really think I can teach?"

McGonagall laughed and reached out taking his cup and proceeded to fill up both theirs. "If anyone can teach the first years how to fly, it's you, Mr Potter." She handed him his cup again. "I have faith in you," she added quietly. 

So here he was walking the familiar grounds of Hogwarts. He had come early to give himself the chance to get used to being back, visiting all the places that haunted his dreams as well as those that held good memories. The students would be here by the end of the week and there was one more place he had yet to visit, one he was putting off to the last minute-- the Room of Requirement. Sighing deeply, he walked into the castle and headed toward where the Room had always appeared for him and the DA.

Rounding the corner, he stopped short at the sight before him. Gregory Goyle was standing in front of the wall where the Room had been that last day of the war. Harry thought back and realized he hadn't seen Goyle since all the funerals after the war. Harry had gone to Vincent Crabbe's funeral and Goyle had come up to him after, looking a lot older than he should and much quieter than he had ever been in school; he'd apologized for his actions during the war and thanked Harry for saving him and Draco. Looking at him now he could tell the past three years had weighed just as heavily on him as they had Harry. He felt a little shocked at that, he hadn't really thought Goyle would have changed that much but then again war had a way of doing that, of changing everyone. 

He must have made a noise as he started to move because Goyle looked up suddenly. "Potter, what are you doing here?" he asked. 

Walking over to stand next to him but still not looking at the wall or even thinking of the Room he answered, "McGonagall brought me in to teach flying, you?" 

Even though Harry couldn't look at the wall, Goyle apparently didn't have a problem because he turned back to it. "Ministry has me working here, well McGonagall really; I'm on probation for five years and McGonagall came to me and offered me a position here at Hogwarts." 

Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as Goyle reached out and touched the wall. He was quite surprised when no door appeared. He asked quietly, "What are you doing, Goyle?"

Goyle dropped his hand, "Apparently nothing," he muttered, "I've been trying to get in for two years now and it still won't let me. Not really sure why I even try anymore. Just one of those things, I guess."

Harry, who still hadn't turned toward the wall began backing up and turned away. "I'm not sure I want to go in." 

Shaking his head in agreement, he turned away from the wall and walked over to Harry and answered, "I was like that for the first year but then I started trying to get in but sadly, no luck." 

He looked at Harry and reached out his hand, and Harry automatically took it; his hand was warm and enveloped Harry's completely. He couldn't help but look down at their connected hands, notice the differences between the two and how safe he felt with his hand cradled inside Goyle's hand. Frowning at the last thought, he looked up at Goyle. Not only did war change people, sometimes it seemed it changed them dramatically. 

"It's good to see you again, Harry," he said quietly. "Since we're going to be working together, it would be nice if we were able to put things behind us and move on. Maybe even become friends?" 

Still not pulling his hand from Goyle's, Harry merely nodded. "That would be nice, to be friends." He continued to look at Goyle who laughed a little and then pulled his hand away and Harry felt the loss immediately. 

"Don't be too shocked, Harry. Three years of putting up with snotty kids like I used to be, along with McGonagall's influence, has changed me, hopefully for the better." Shaking his head a little ruefully he added, "Who would've thought, huh?" 

Harry grimaced and said, "Sorry, Goyle. It's just a big shock, being back here and all." 

"No worries." He backed up and looked at the wall once again and then turned. "I'll see you around, Harry." Walking away, he stopped after a few steps and said, "By the way, Harry, my name is Greg. If we are going to try and be friends we might as well start by calling each other by our first names. Yeah?"

"Yeah, sorry, Greg." Harry said, the name sounding just a little strange, but then again, the man who was walking away from him was a far cry from the boy he knew at school, so the name Greg did fit better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The new term started and Harry found himself watching his first flying class approach. He smiled as he watched the way too young looking first years come out and line up in front of him. He began with the basics, the way Madam Hooch had, and was glad to find the first few weeks of class went well. The students seemed a little afraid of him at first but quickly settled in to the day-to-day routines.   
Harry saw Greg at the Head Table at meal times but they sat a few spaces apart. The other teachers had obviously accepted him as Harry watched him interact with them. Both Harry and Greg contributed to the conversations they were engaged in but only rarely did they talk just to each other; the Great Hall was loud and conversations seemed to ebb and flow at all times. 

The week that Quidditch practice started, Harry went out to the pitch to watch and found out just what it was that Greg did at Hogwarts; McGonagall apparently had added a Quidditch coach and from the looks of the practice, it turned out to be Greg. And with the way he was interacting with the students, he was a pretty good one at that. Harry remembered Greg had been a decent Beater back in the day, but watching him talk to each of the players, he obviously knew a lot about the entire sport. He wondered why he hadn't heard of this new position, and though it wasn't a bad change, he wondered how he would have reacted when he was a Quidditch Captain. 

Harry decided to watch the practices and climbed up in the stands, watching Greg work with each house until finally, he watched Greg coach the last team to come, Gryffindor. 

Harry had half expected him to be a little biased against his old rival but Greg coached them the same way he had the other three houses. Finally after the last player left the field, he watched as Greg came over and sat down next to him. Feeling terribly nervous for some reason, Harry said, "You're a really good coach, Greg."

Laughing, Greg leaned back against the bleachers. "After the first year when I got countless black eyes and bloody noses, by accident of course, I finally made a connection with the Captains, told them I wasn't here to replace them just to help them, then things seemed to calm down."

Harry relaxed a little and watched Greg's hands as they absently played with his broom. He knew Greg had continued talking, telling him about the ways he taught the students the game, but just like before in the hallway Harry's attention was focused on those hands. The ones he knew were roughened with calluses on the inside, Quidditch hands, smoother on the outside but strong and secure. Why he was so fascinated with Greg's hands was a mystery but the one thing he did know was he enjoyed having his hand inside the bigger, stronger one. Finally he realized it was quiet again, and he looked up at Greg who was looking at him. 

Harry felt his face blush just a bit, and he muttered, "Sorry." 

Greg just stood up and reached out to help Harry stand and answered, "Don't be." He squeezed Harry's hand just a little then gathered up his stuff and the two of them walked back toward the castle. 

After that first Quidditch practice, Harry made an effort to go and watch Greg coach the players when he could. That along with a move of a few seats down to sit next to Greg at meals meant that they spent more and more time together. The more time they spent together, the more they talked and the more Harry realized just how much Greg had changed and how much he enjoyed, even looked forward to his company. 

Finally, Harry had someone who understood the nightmares, the memories and the inability to move on. His friends and acquaintances all expected Harry to act a certain way. He was the golden boy, the Chosen One and he should be happy with his life, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't let go of the past. But with Greg, Harry could be himself. He could get angry over the lives lost and get upset over the fact that he couldn't save everyone. Yes, he had helped save the wizarding world but that responsibility was thrust upon him because of who he was, something that Greg seemed to understand being the son of a Death Eater, and thereby, being expected to act a certain way as well.

It wasn't until Christmas break, when most of the students were gone that Harry finally brought up the topic he had been hesitant to discuss. He and Greg were in his rooms like they were most nights because Harry's room was much warmer and he had more space. Greg was working on cleaning his broom and Harry worked up the courage to ask.

"Greg?" he asked as he continued to try and wrap some of the presents he had bought over the weekend in Hogsmeade. 

Without looking up, he answered, "Hmm?" 

Harry paused for a moment then asked, "Why do you keep trying to get into the Room of Requirement?" 

Looking up from his broom, Greg glanced over at him. He put down the cleaner and gave Harry his full attention. "I don't know if I can explain it right, but in the beginning, it was like I had to get in there. In my mind, I think the war ended hell, my childhood even ended in that room. When Vincent died and you three saved Draco and me; I just, it was the end for me. To have one more chance to look at it, to remember and to put away that memory seems the right thing to do. Does that make sense?" 

Harry merely shook his head, not sure really what to say, then Greg asked, "What about you, Harry? Why did you go there; what did you hope to find?" Harry stood and walked over to the window of his room. He thought about how he had felt, standing there in front of the wall without even facing it and how it haunted him. Why did he go there? 

"I don't know. I guess I wanted to face the last of my demons. When I came back, I walked the castle and the grounds, went back and remembered everything, even the spot where I died. But that room, there was something about it and what happened; it gets to me. It could have been so easy to keep going, to not go back for you, but I did and I'm glad I did." He turned to look at Greg. "Especially now, I'm very glad I did," he added quietly. 

Greg smiled at him and shook his head in acknowledgment. "Me too, Harry, me too." He stood up and walked over Harry and slowly reached his hand out to him. 

Harry took Greg's hand and the memory from that first day came back; the sense of warmth, security and an overwhelming feeling of peace. He looked from their hands up to Greg's face and said, "I'd like to try and see if it opens for me. Would you want to come with me?" he asked. "You know, just in case it does." 

Greg squeezed his hand. "I think I'd like that, Harry. Maybe we can face our demons together now, eh?" 

Harry shook his head and looked back down at their hands, fingers now intertwined together. The wind howled and Harry turned to look out the window and saw the snow had started falling again. He felt Greg shift closer, their shoulders now touching as he stood next to Harry looking out the window. 

There they stood, side by side, hand-in-hand, watching the snow fall with both of them lost in their own swirling thoughts. So many questions, yet Harry was quite certain that they were ready to face whatever demons or memories came their way… together.


End file.
